Category: Fourre-tout

That’s what I wish for.
I want my final coming going out party to be hassle free. To go as planned.

Unfortunately, the Right-to-die bill was recently abandoned in California.
A crying shame and a big mistake! Because no matter what (just like the same sex marriage) this initiative will ultimately prevail.

As you are getting older, once in a while the thought of death crosses your mind.
Death by itself is not scary. It is the circumstances surrounding this event that can make you a little apprehensive.

Life is made of a multitude of small pleasures, but little by little, as you advance in age, these pleasures are slowly taken away from you.
You libido has gone AWOL, you cannot eat or drink what you like anymore, you don’t move as easily as you used to, you cannot drive… you are slowly morphing into a relic.
You become pitifully dependent on other people.
That’s not my cup of tea. By a long shotl.

Comes a day when there is no pleasure left and life becomes absolutely tedious, not worth living. I am not patient enough to put up with this.

That’s why I claim the right to die. On my own terms.
Because whose life is it anyway?
My life is my own (not belonging to my relatives, my doctors or the Church) and I should be able to dispose of it as I see fit.

If one day I get tired of living, I want to have the option to depart of my own free will.
After all, as the song says “it’s my party and I’ll cry die if I want to.”
I don’t want to become something  kept artificially alive  just for the sake of lasting a few more days, a few more months, or a few more years.
I am not on this earth to beat records.
What counts for me  is the quality of life. No quality, no life.

I have always hated long goodbyes. When I make up my mind, I go.
So when I decide to close shop, I want to go quickly.

“I don’t believe in an after life, although I am bringing a change of underwear.”
Woody Allen

I want my final curtain call to be deliberate and well orchestrated.

And by the way, if you don’t agree with this (many regrettably don’t), do not prevent others from doing what they see fit.

I urge the public and especially the lawmakers to reconsider this terrible injustice.

Alain

PS: When I go, I’ll take my cell phone with me. Just in case… even though I am well aware that:

“For days after death hair and fingernails continue to grow, but phone calls taper off.”
Johnny Carson

And I wouldn’t mind funeral strippers either!

Blacks, Asians, Hispanics, Christians, Jews, Moslems, gays, transgenders, Republicans, handicapped, gun lovers, dog lovers, vegans, witches, ecologists, motorcyclists, feminists, nudists, bassoonists…
Everybody wants recognition and of course special treatment.
Blimey, what is the world coming to?

When I was growing up, there was no such a thing.
We only had capitalists and communists.
Life was much simpler (and blatantly unfair).

But by trying to please everybody, you most likely won’t please anybody.
Soon, like a pride of lions fighting for a piece of zebra, there is going to be nothing left to share but the zebra’s stripes.
Like Greece.

With presidential elections looming on the horizon, candidates of all shapes and forms are also vying for attention.
In my unqualified opinion, the ideal candidate would have to be black, gay, Jewish, handicapped, vegan, belonging to the NRA, and a bassoonist to boot.

Bernie, Hillary, Jeb… are you listening? Do you belong to any oppressed minority? Persecuted millionaires maybe…

But could a guy with Bernie as a first name be nominated to be president?
President Bernie Sanders?
It doesn’t sound very presidential.
Bernie, a word of advice: switch back to Bernard, and we will talk again.

What about Jeb? What kind of name is this anyway? Is it a shortcut for Jebediah (beloved of Yahweh)? No. I just learned that JEB stands for John Ellis Bush.
Isn’t this clever? Everybody tries to emulate JFK.
Jeb still sounds very hillbillish to me. Do we want a Jed Clampett in the Casa Blanca?
Not particularly.

Where, oh where can we find the ideal candidate?
Or can we manufacture one? It has been done before…

What about Rachel Dolezal, the former head of the Spokane NAACP? On top of being black, is she also gay, Jewish, vegan, handicapped? If she is not, it is not too late to become one of those.
To a valiant heart nothing is impossible.

But my point is that we cannot please everybody, so hell with diversity and politically correct stuff.
May the best (regardless of color, gender, religion or sexual orientation) win and lead us to the Promised Land.

If the best happens to be Hispanic, gay or Mormon, I don’t care.
I want the finest the nation can offer for president. Not somebody propped by special interests or by family ties.

Am I just another whining baby?

Alain

Unlike my (many times removed) cousin Zac Efron, I am not a celeb and I am glad that I am not. If I were, my life could be hellish.

If I were a celebrity I would have to wear torn jeans.
That’s what they do.
Being a neat freak (in some areas) I couldn’t do that. I absolutely hate well-off people wearing torn jeans (especially when appearing on television).
Because really, what is the message?
I have plenty of dough and I could afford some fancy jeans, but I don’t care about social mores. I do as I please and if you don’t like it, hell with you.
Conceited and disrespectful. Not my style.

If I were a celebrity, I would have to pretend to be mad at paparazzi.
I said pretend, because those guys are the people who keep the flame of celebrities burning bright.
If they didn’t shoot you in every possible situation, your star would quickly tarnish.
So I couldn’t bite the hand that fed me.

I would have to do drugs.
It goes with the territory. In the firmament of newsmakers you are never too high. If you think that you are flying too low, a few snorts of cocaine will boost you back in high orbit.
Not for me. I am leery of height.

I would have to wear dark glasses.
It is the required apparatus of a star’s wardrobe. A celebrity wears them to supposedly go incognito. But oversize dark glasses don’t hide anything. They just emphasize the fact that you desperately want to be noticed.
I couldn’t do that. I am too modest and large specs (Audrey Hepburn style) would make my head (my best feature) look too small.

I would have to hook up with a very young or much older chick.
As a star, I could not have a normal love life. It would be beneath my condition. As a celebrity I would need to shock and a regular girl is not what my business manager would recommend.
Don’t be conventional. Take them young or old. No in-between. It will create a nice buzz.
Nah!

I would have to hop from bed to bed.
No self-respecting “celebrity” sleeps in the same bed every night. If you do that you are utterly bourgeois and don’t belong in showbiz.
Personally I like to sleep in a familiar bed. I don’t want to have to tame a new mattress (and a woman) night after night.
I’ll pass.

I would have to go braless.
If I were a woman, I would have to go braless and have occasional dress malfunctions to boost my ratings.
Nothing like an inadvertent (?) nip slip to rally the paparazzi.
Not for me. My nips are too small and not pert enough.

I would have to be obnoxious and profusely apologize next day (maybe not).
I don’t like obnoxious. It is not my style. I leave this to rockers and rappers. It is their bread and butter.
I don’t want to starve them.

I would have to lose or gain weight regularly.
A no-no. My magnificent body is my temple; I cannot mess with it.

So to sum it up, I don’t want to wear dark glasses, ripped jeans or snort coke.
I am not cut for Hollywood. I am just a guy who is too plain to be famous.
I am just famously plain, and I like it that way!
I you want to adore me, it’s OK but don’t expect me to ever wear torn jeans or go braless.

Alain